Gone Part 2
by sylphie3000
Summary: Hawke has died, Fenris is at her gravestone in the rain. Drama? Violence? AGH i know I suck at reviews ;-; sequel to my other fanfic "Gone"


"I…never…blamed you. I…love you…" Her eyes closed for the last time.

Whenever Fenris closed his eyes, it was all he could see. Her face, smeared by blood. Her eyes, dimming as they fought to stay open, locked on his. Her beautiful raven hair, caked with sand and blood, in clumps about her face. His Hawke, dead. Lifeless. Gone.

He had not gone to the funeral, unlike many of the others. He just couldn't bear to see her face again. He had watched her die, had held her while her lifeblood had drained from between his fingers, staining their armor. The prospect of seeing her face again, white, lifeless, was just too much for him to bear. But now, he couldn't stay away.

It had been a week, and Fenris had visited her grave three times. Merrill and Varric had shown him where it was the first time he had gone, and the next two times he went, Isabella had been there, grieving. Like him, she hadn't gone to the funeral. She had seen Hawke die just as he did, and couldn't see her face again in death. Varric had been the only one in the party to go wish her well on her way to the Maker.

Now, as he trudged through Hightown in the rain, he recalled how much she used to love it. Every time it started raining she would run outside like a child and flip around like an acrobat, splashing in puddles and getting him wet. It was one of the only times when she let herself truly and fully be happy, when she smiled that smile that he so loved. Afterwards she'd be so cold and worn out Orana could barely get her to bed after her bath.

He passed her house on the way to the Cemetery. As far as he knew, the servants were still living there, but wouldn't be for long. Fenris didn't care to check. He didn't need those accusing eyes, those whispers. He didn't need Orana scowling at him, or worse, telling him that since Hawke isn't there, he shouldn't be. He looked at the door, tempted for just a second, then shook his head and continued on.

The Cemetery was a fairly large place, one of the biggest places in all of Kirkwall. The graves of nobles lined up about a quarter of it, and the rest was empty. There were people in front of graves, placing flowers, crying, or in one case, sleeping. Fenris made his way through the tangle of graves and mourners, towards Hawke's.

It was a short and simple gravestone, with her name, date of birth and date of death, and a quote: "The Maker watches over us all in life and death." Fenris thought it cheesy and over-rated, and not something that described Hawke in her essence. She had been fiery, passionate, humorous. Not some two-bit line taken out of a Chantry book.

He stood there, in front of her grave, in the rain, remembering. Her smile, her laugh. She was so beautiful when she laughed, throwing back her short raven-black hair to look at the heavens. The crease between her eyebrows when she was challenging him. Oh how he missed that, her challenging him to explain what he believes in, the light in her eyes. How those same eyes had roved over his tattoos, hungry, desiring him and all that he had to give. Her eyes, wonderful and emotional, their color like shattered ice in the dead of winter. Those eyes that will never open again.

Everything about Hawke he knew he remembered, and the more he remembered, the heavier the rain got. He was glad for the rain, it disguised his tears and his grief. But soon he had no tears left to give. All he had where his memories, his precious memories. They where already fading. Which dress had been her favorite? How had her hips swayed when she walked? Her eyes when he had bed her, what had they been like? Its almost as though they turned green, right? No, it's as though they danced purple near her pupil. Or was it yellow? No, it was sea-green. That was it. That was something he could remember. Fenris solidified the memory in his mind, so he could call back on it.

Just thinking of the disaster of their night together made Fenris cringe. It had been the night of their lives, and he had ruined it. He had left, had abandoned her when she needed him. It was all because of those memories. Those memories that Danarius had taken away from him. Fenris shook with anger. _What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?_ He thought.

Dawn brightened the horizon as the rain lightened. Fenris was stiff and sore with cold, but he didn't care. He stood there, paying silent tribute to the woman he loved most. People started to flood the Cemetery. There was a new body to be buried today. Loved ones were crying, flocking around the coffin that was being lowered into the ground. With them came someone else, someone with blonde hair, robes, and a scowl.

"So, finally come here, huh? I thought you'd never show," Anders said, a sneer on his face as he walked over to Fenris. The elf didn't raise his head from the grave as he answered. "I've been here more than you, _mage_, so I suggest you back off before I defile the graves with your blood."

"Oh? I didn't recall seeing you at the _funeral_. You know, the one for Hawke. The one that wouldn't have been needed if _you_ didn't let her die," said Anders, incredulous.

Fenris flashed lyrium blue. The color caught onto the raindrops surrounding him and created a light halo around him. "Don't speak to _me_ of letting her die, mage." Fenris growled, his voice low and dangerous. "If you had been there, you could've healed her. You say you love her-"

"I _do_ love her! Unlike somebody here, I love her with everything I have! If you hadn't left her, then we wouldn't be here right now," The mage said, his eyes narrowing.

"Don't bring that… that night into it. It has nothing to do with you. You wouldn't understand why I left. You don't know what it's like to be a slave! If you loved Hawke as much as you say you did, then you wouldn't have left her alone for anything! It's your fault she's dead," Fenris yelled. He flashed blue again, and this time it stuck, a testament to just how much of a weapon his very body was.

Anders stared at him, tears coursing down his face. "You wouldn't understand! To you, she was just some…some toy. You were never serious about her, you never cared. Why she ever chose an animal like you, I'll never know," he said, taking his staff from its place on his back.

Faster than lightning, Fenris had his hand phased through the mages chest, clutching his heart. Anders choked, blood coming out of his mouth. Fenris squeezed, and Anders fell limp. Fenris let the mages body fall, turned around, and walked out of the Cemetery.

Fenris rushed through Hightown, the rain washing most of the blood off his hands. He got to his mansion and slammed the door behind him, running up the stairs to the room. He quickly started a fire, and then paced around. On his way past the table, he picked up a half-full bottle of wine. It wasn't Agrigio, but it would do. He took a swig, grimaced at the bitter-dry taste, then threw it against the wall. Wine splattered everywhere, and glass shards tumbled down with a satisfying tinkle.

He stayed like that for hours, pacing and thinking. He knew he shouldn't have killed Anders, but Hawke had only kept him around for his magical healing. It had led to not needing any health potions due to his vast reserves of mana, and that had been her downfall in the end. She had forgotten the potions, forgotten that Anders wasn't there. They all thought they would be okay. That they would all come home. Fenris threw a pot against the wall with all of his strength, but it did nothing to help. He fell to his knees in front of the fire and howled.


End file.
